


After Breakfast Club.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: A young Aragorn is shown another side to Rivendell.23: 'mother, father, creator, explorer, messenger.'
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Back to Middle-earth Month 2020: Endings and Beginnings





	After Breakfast Club.

Aragorn was reading when Elrond knocked on his door. Not anticipating such a distinguished visitor, he had merely called out "Come in!" and carried on with the history book. Startled, he leaped to his feet "My Lord Elrond! I was not expecting you."  
"Are you very busy? There is someone I would like you to meet, before you go off into the Wild."  
"Someone new has come to Imladris? I had not heard."  
"No, he has been here all along. But he does not care for the young, and to him you are very young indeed." Elrond looked down at the book on the table "He wrote that book, for instance."  
Aragorn felt somewhat daunted, but pulled himself upright. He was preparing himself to face orcs, wolves, trolls and worse, he would not fear an elf.   
  
Elrond led him through to the east wing, away from the lively heart of Imladris in the west wing, where the musicians drew the young to them to sing and dance. The corridors of the east wing were silent, the occasional murmur of voices could be heard as a door opened, and a few elves, generally with books or scrolls in their arms, passed by them with nods. There were many more carpets than in the west wing, and embroidered hangings, and thick curtains. Aragorn, who had rarely been to the east wing since the essential exploration of childhood, found his heart begin to slow, lulled by the deep serenity of the place. It was a world away from the Hall of Fire, and the busy meetings and councils and committees of the court. 

Finally, at the furthest end of the most distant hall, Elrond stopped, perforce, and knocked on a door. In much the same tone that Aragorn had used, a voice answered "Come in!"  
The room faced east, tall windows looked out onto a herb garden, which filled the mild air with fresh green scents. Aragorn took a deep breath and found himself smiling, but Elrond bowed to the seated elf, who bowed without rising, shocking Aragorn, for it was something he had never seen. But Elrond turned to him and smiled "Sticky, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Aragorn, this is Sticky."  
The elf was one of the old Noldor, with grey eyes and dark hair, but a look in his eyes that spoke of horrors, of things that he would rather forget. On the wall behind him was a shield of the House of Fingolfin, but in perfect condition. There were several in Imladris, but all had seen heavy use. Sticky tilted his head to one side, then smiled at Aragorn "You are wondering about my shield? Won’t you sit down? Elrond will leave you to be bored by my old stories, and we might share a glass of wine, eh, youngster?"

The wine was the finest, Aragorn had to stop himself from emptying the goblet before his host had taken a sip. But Sticky seemed to read his thoughts "Drink up, do, there’s plenty more! And if you cannot find your way home from here, well then you should reconsider going off into the wild." He laughed "But why, you do not ask, am I called Sticky?" He had a faraway smile for a moment, and Aragorn sat very still, to not intrude upon a pleasant memory. "Gil-galad gave me the name, when this happened." Sticky lifted the hem of his gown, he had only one foot, the other was a knobbled stump. "He came to visit, Gil-galad, when I was in bed, after this happened. 'Stick with me, Sticky, I'll look after you.' And he did. I was his chief scout, you see, but an arrow pinned my foot to the ground. Orcs!" For a moment Aragorn thought that the old scout would spit, but instead Sticky took a draught of wine. Aragorn swallowed, wondering if Elrond had thought to scare him off. Those with such injuries had, he supposed, all gone to the Havens, to sail for the Undying Lands. But here was Sticky.   
"Why are you still here? Why have you not sailed?"  
"Ah... That is another story. Don’t you want to hear the story of my foot?"  
Aragorn swallowed "Yes."  
Sticky nodded "Yes, it is a tale of horror. But it saved my life... The arrow was poisoned, so poisonous that the arrow was dissolving while it stood quivering in my foot. There was no time to think, I must get clear of the arrow or perish, and so I cut off my own foot."  
Aragorn was silent. There was nothing he could possibly say. They were quiet for a time, but at last Sticky shook himself slightly and drained his goblet.  
"But never mind that! You want to know about Celebrian!"  
"I do?"  
" 'Why are you still here?' you said."  
"Did Celebrian ask you to stay?"  
"No, not she. Elrond himself. We were good friends, long long ago. But we both loved Celebrian, and he is Elrond, but I am Sticky.   
I could not endure it. I had to... Well, our friendship cooled. But when she left... Well, I was tempted to follow...   
But he came to me, croaking with grief, for she told him he could not abandon the children, and talking to me about her seemed to ease his grief somehow." Sticky sighed "He doesn’t come often, but I know he likes to know I'm here, when he misses her too much to bear alone. But of course, this is my home, more than anyone else’s!" He laughed and refilled their goblets "I found it!"  
"You are the scout who discovered Imladris? You are the one who wrote 'The Last Alliance'?"  
"Yes. Well, what could I do but tell stories, and listen, after this?" He gestured to his stick, which Aragorn saw as though for the first time. He had seen crutches before, but never one like this; for Sticky’s stick was embedded with gems and jewels, glittering in the morning sunlight that came through the open windows. "Gifts, you know, all gifts. People seem to like the book. Or perhaps they just feel sorry for old Sticky."  
"Perhaps they hope you will remember them?"  
"Perhaps they do!" He laughed "I will remember you, mortal, that is certain. Elrond is actually worried that you will snatch his daughter from him."  
Aragorn gaped, Sticky laughed. Then his face turned serious "And now that I have met you" he tilted his head back appraisingly "Yes, I can see that he might have reason to be concerned. But you asked about my shield."  
"No sir, I did not. You perceived my thought."  
Sticky laughed again "Ah, Elendil would be proud of you."  
"Thankyou, that means a great deal to me."  
"Yes. Yes, it would. My Lord Fingolfin too, he would be proud. He gave me the shield. It’s for parades and such like. I was a scout, we did not carry shields. Tell me, do you have a good bow?"  
"I... yes, that is, I have never used a poor one."  
Sticky picked up the glittering stick and raised it above the fireplace and lifted the magnificent bow down from the wall. With a blur of elvish speed he let go of the bow and the stick, moved his hands through the air and caught both in the middle. He set down the stick and handed the bow to Aragorn, who managed not to gape, but only just. "Here, mortal, this bow came from Valinor, may it bring you better luck than it brought to me! No, no, I'm... I get angry, you know, sometimes, and then I swim, until I remember that we are all, always, trying to swim upstream, but Baranduin is not to be conquered, and at last all of us, even the mightiest, are swept away."  
"You swim in the Baranduin?"  
"Only my foot is missing! Ha! It’s glamorous to lose a hand, and very glamorous to lose an eye. But an elf with a missing foot? Well... the very nasty ones say 'Is he still an elf at all?' Ha, thankyou for looking shocked. But for your own sake, I urge you to seek out your own kind. Elrond may be trying to prepare you. I know you visit your mother, but I suppose she has shielded you from much of the sorrow of your kind. Your visits home are joyful, with much music and laughter and song?"  
Aragorn nodded, Sticky poured wine into his goblet "To our mothers!" he cried, and drank deeply. Aragorn thought of his patient mother, and the bright whirl of people and parties whenever he went home. In the stillness of the east wing it all seemed very remote, and to have nothing to do with him. The past was all around him, not his own past, but the ancient past, when mighty heroes like Fingolfin strode into battle against Morgoth himself. It was like a swim in Nenuial from a boat out on the wide waters, with the black depths below sucking the breath from his body. He looked into the wise grey eyes of Sticky and struggled for the words to reach him.  
"One day you will sail, into the west?" Sticky nodded silently, his eyes never leaving Aragorn's. "You will see Fingolfin again..." Sticky smiled slowly, it looked like he wanted to weep. Aragorn nodded "Tell him... tell him..."  
But Sticky sat back in his chair and sighed "Yes, young mortal, the void lies between us! But when at last I see my lord Fingolfin once more, I will tell him."

  



End file.
